


“PERPETUATE BEAUTY.” [ A JEREMY IRONS/ TOM HIDDLESTON / TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET HALLOWEEN STORY ]

by A_Wolf



Category: Halloween - Fandom, Horror - Fandom, Jeremy Irons - Fandom, Timothée Chalamet - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: A.Wölf, Halloween, Horror, Multi, Tumblr, theartofimagining13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wolf/pseuds/A_Wolf
Summary: Jeremy is the owner of a very successful tailor shop he runs with his daughter and his two sons Thomas and Timothée. When a dark secret comes to light in the lives of the three siblings, the family is sent down a very macabre road.
Relationships: Jeremy Irons/Tom Hiddleston/Timothée Chalamet/Original female character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	“PERPETUATE BEAUTY.” [ A JEREMY IRONS/ TOM HIDDLESTON / TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET HALLOWEEN STORY ]

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on a Mexican legend. I can’t say more without spoiling the story.  
> This is a work of fiction and the actors mentioned in this are just portraying my very own characters. I don’t mean to disrespect anyone.
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

**Originally posted at** : [The Art of Imagining](http://theartofimagining13.tumblr.com/).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**[*AMBIENCE*](https://youtu.be/UzEfSjTYvDc)** | [*MUSIC*](https://youtu.be/qEzWqUhnbVA)

* * *

Jeremy adjusted his glasses as he carefully finished embroidering another lace flower on the skirt fabric of the wedding gown his daughter was wearing.

The gold acorn tape measure was draped around his neck and he held a few sewing needles between his teeth as he worked on what would be his most beautiful and bold creation yet. Every soon-to-be bride from all over the world wanted to wear one of Jeremy’s dresses. Rumor had it that he obtained most of his unique and elegant fabrics from France, and soon enough, his little tailor shop was one of the most visited places in all of Europe.

The owner had his passionate helpers; his oldest son Thomas William who basically ran the business and dealt with the monetary aspects so his father could concentrate on the dresses. His daughter who he could always count on to use as his lifelike tailor dummy, and his youngest son, Thimothée Hal, who was basically Jeremy’s assistant in order to learn a little about everything. He served the costumers and organized the sewing supplies, all while perfecting the art of mannequin making during his free time so his father’s creations could be displayed behind the shop’s glass windows.

The daughter looked in the mirror before her, admiring the beautiful dress and her own reflection. She was used to looking like a bride, but there was something about that dress that infused her eyes with a different glint.

 _“This truly is your best work, father.”_ She mused.

A mischievous smile spread at the corner of his lips.

 _“You think so?”_ He inquired, still crouching behind her and working on the skirt.

_“Oh, absolutely.”_

Jeremy stood up and watched as she twirled the same way she did when she was a little girl trying on a gown for the first time, emulating royalty.

 _“Well, it isn’t finished yet.”_ Jeremy clarified.

_“No but I can see it already.”_

Jeremy stared at his daughter, the apple of his eye, and how the dress became her. He made the silent promise of finishing it and saving it for the day she married.

Timothée appeared from the storage room in the back at the same time when the hanging door bell rang and a couple of costumers walked in. Jeremy glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, knowing that they were there to pick up a gown he had altered.

 _“Timothée, take over, would you?”_ He said while taking the sewing needles out of his mouth. _“The corset’s missing a button.”_

 _“Yes, father.”_ The obedient son nodded as Jeremy joined the costumers.

Timothée stared at his sister and showed her a warm smile as he motioned her to join him in the back. He began going through every little drawer in the storage room looking for the perfect button while his sister walked into the dressing room.

 _“A waltz in such beautiful dress.”_ She murmured to herself thinking she was alone.

But Timothée had heard her when he walked in and proceeded to offer her his right hand.

 _“Milady,”_ He said. _“Would you do me the honor?”_

She grinned and played along by taking his hand and accepting his invitation to dance in the small dressing room, and with a soft piano melody playing in their heads and it didn{t take long for them to start giggling.

 _“Turn around now.”_ Timothée ordered to take over his father’s task.

He swallowed hard when she did as she was told and he looked at her bare delicate shoulders. He took a deep breath and kneeled down behind her to sew the button on the back of the corset. He cleared his throat.

_“I’m afraid it’s not the beauty of the dress alone but your own that makes it perfect.”_

She grinned but frowned as she caught a glimpse of his shy glance in the mirror before he looked at the needle and thread in his hand.

 _“Timothée Hal…”_ She sang and teased, _“Was that a compliment?”_

She couldn’t help but turn around, and her little brother rose up unable to read her expression. She was in awe, eyeing him slowly from head to toe.

 _“I keep forgetting that you’re all grown up now_.” She said. _“You better not be this silver-tongued with all the lady costumers.”_

Timothée let out a chuckle and shook his head.

_“Never.”_

Timothée had grown up indeed. He had become a fine young man who felt things he had never felt before and others he had yet to discover. As he stood behind his sister again, he wondered what it would feel like to caress her beautiful skin with his fingertips. They almost tingled at the thought. He tried to keep his mind busy on his work but the smell of rose water in her hair invaded his nostrils and caused a trembling hand.

 _“Ow!”_ He exclaimed when he pricked his index finger.

A drop of blood came out.

 _“Are you okay?”_ She asked.

He just nodded but she noticed the blood through the mirror. She held his hand and gently brought the pricked finger to her mouth and stared at his reflection as if asking for permission but her brother was just frozen in place. She kissed his fingertip and wiped the blood away with her lips. Timothée swallowed hard with a fastened heartbeat when her eyes wouldn’t leave his.

 _“Better?”_ She asked.

He blinked a few times and gave a nod. As he resumed his activity in silence, he replayed the moment in his head a million times.

 _“Ironic, isn’t it?”_ She interrupted his train of thought. _“I’ve been trying on wedding gowns for years and yet…”_

 _“Don’t.”_ He cut her off.

_“When do you think I will I marry, brother?”_

Timothée clenched his jaw and glared at her.

_“Never, if I can help it.”_

She looked at him through the mirror and quirked an eyebrow.

_“Are those your wishes upon your sister, Timothée? I can’t die a spinster. It wouldn’t be such a cruel joke if we didn’t own this shop.”_

_“Father is a widow and Tom’s not married either. We’re profoundly ironic as a family in a business like this, don’t you think?”_

_“What about you?”_ She asked. _“Have you fallen in love yet?”_

Timothée looked her in the eye just for a brief moment before glancing away again.

 _“I d- I don’t know.”_ He stuttered. _“This isn’t really the most adequate place for that.”_

She sighed absentmindedly.

_“It’s all the same. Forbidden love will leave you unmarried too.”_

Timothée furrowed his eyebrows for her before echoing her words.

_“Forbidden love?”_

_“Falling for someone you shouldn’t…”_

The younger brother stared into her soul. He was afraid to ask but did so anyway.

_“Like who?”_

She forced a smile and shook her head.

_“I think I’m being a little dramatic, brother. Forgive me.”_

But he studied her in silence for a complete minute, feeling something indescribable within him. He shook his head and forced himself to pay attention to what he was doing and diverted the subject moderately.

 _“Look at Thomas. He is the oldest.”_ He began. _“And I don’t see him worrying about marriage, so why should you?”_

She turned to face her little brother again and he could see unspoken distress written on her face.

 _“No man out there deserves you anyway.”_ He added.

Timothée inched closer to her and made sure they were locking eyes.

_“And if you never marry, then I won’t marry either. Ever. We will stay together and be infinite you and I.”_

She didn’t understand how both sadness and happiness could fill her heart at the same time. All she could do was press her forehead against his and get lost in his green eyes and their hint of hazel. Timothée loved his sister more than words could explain, and protecting her sometimes made him feel older than her. The three siblings had been very close while growing up but there was something about his big sister that he gravitated towards and couldn’t explain, apart from the deep admiration for her fragile and undeniable beauty.

She had grown with him and turned into a woman in front of his younger eyes. A transformation that Timothée kept close to his heart because he felt that it was something Tom had missed since he grew up before them.

The youngest’s workshop was filled with half-made mannequins and some of their parts were scattered on the floor.

Realistic torsos, arms and heads could be found everywhere along with endless leather bound books and encyclopedias; plastic arts, anatomy, taxidermy, medicine. He had read them all. His sister quietly entered the room and glanced around mesmerized while he worked on a mannequin’s face. He was and had been so immersed in his activity all afternoon that he didn’t even notice her until she got closer to him and rested her chin on his right shoulder, looking at the dummy.

He tensed up.

_“You really are quite the artist, you know?”_

Her low voice near his ear, the proximity of her lips, and her body warmth were making him rather nervous. He stood up and showed her an expectant look. No one really bothered him when he was working so she clearly had something to say and he waited.

 _“We’re having dinner in an hour. Tom will be here any minute.”_ She announced.

_“Is that why you’re all dolled up?”_

Timothée folded his arms across his chest, feigning jealousy, and she ignored him. He thought she would leave but she picked up a book and flipped through the pages until she gasped and it fell to the ground with a loud thud.

 _“What is it?”_ He asked.

But his answer came crawling on top of the book pages.

 _“You mustn’t be afraid of them.”_ He said picking up the book and letting the spider on top of it crawl towards his hand.

She observed and made a face of disgust.

 _“Aren’t these creatures dangerous?”_ She inquired.

_“They’re harmless, really, unless provoked.”_

She witnessed as Timothée carefully put the spider inside a glass jar.

 _“Only then… they’re deadly.”_ He added while staring at the creature with fascination.

She came running down the stairs when her older brother Tom arrived.

He had barely crossed the threshold when she crashed into his chest for a hug, and he didn’t even waste a second before putting his arms around her. Timothée watched from the bottom of the staircase, and drummed his fingers impatiently on the wooden railing seeing just how effusive she was with him and how obvious it was that she had terribly missed him for the couple days he had been gone. It made him wonder if she had a favorite brother, and if she did, the answer was obvious to him.

Had he ever feigned jealousy or was it always real?

How he wished to be Tom.

His older brother finally looked at him, still embracing his sister, and gave a single nod with a demure smile.

 _“Timothée.”_ He greeted.

 _“William.”_ The youngest said, not moving from the staircase and without returning the smile.

Thomas loved his siblings. As the oldest one, he was undeniably protective of them. His beautiful sister had his heart, and in Timothée he had high hopes. As for his father, Tom had nothing but respect and a peculiar resemblance in manners. Jeremy had been a great example for them while growing up, especially after their mother had passed and he raised them on his own.

 _“I’ve brought you something”_ He announced while letting go of his sister.

Out of his coat pocket, he pulled out a small jewelry box. His excited sister opened it to find a unique gold ring with a purple stone, and she instantly knew that it had cost a fortune. Timothée detested the glint of pure elation in her eyes as she tried it on and gave Thomas a thankful kiss on the cheek.

The family enjoyed a delicious dinner and wine while reminiscing but business had to be discussed after Tom’s latest trip.

He was back from Paris and had persuaded his father to open a second tailor shop there for its convenience, and after so many years of hard work, it was a possibility for them.

 _“The place is in very good shape, I must say.”_ Tom said, _“It only needs decorating which my sister can help with, I’m sure.”_

 _“Bring her with you on your next trip.”_ Jeremy said while cutting a piece of meat on his plate. _“If she approves, then we’ll set everything up and inaugurate in a few weeks.”_

 _“Actually…”_ Tom hesitated and glanced at his sister briefly. _“We don’t want you to worry about it, father. We could run the place ourselves.”_

Timothée stared at both with a confused look on his face when Tom motioned at his sister and his very own self.

 _“You want to move to Paris?”_ Jeremy asked.

_“It seems…”_

_“Adequate.”_ The sister finished Tom’s sentence.

_“Yes. We could be in charge of the new store there and you and Timothée can stay here.”_

The youngest glared at his brother.

 _“Oh, really?”_ He chimed in while slightly leaning against the table to make sure Tom met his eyes. _“Why do you get to decide who leaves and who stays?”_

Tom sighed. He had anticipated his little brother’s stubbornness to be a guest at their table.

_“Timothée,”_

_“Whose idea was it to open a second shop anyway?”_ He cut Tom off. _“And, why Paris? It’s unnecessarily far.”_

The oldest sibling and the sister exchanged glances.

 _“On the contrary.”_ She said. _“We already buy most of our fabrics there, so it’s a smart place for a second shop, and well… we’ve been discussing it, Tom and I for a while now.”_ His sister explained. _“The shop here is doing very well and you’ve learned enough to stay and help father. Maybe even take over one day.”_

Timothée gripped his cutlery a little too hard. His hand began to tremble slightly.

 _“You want to move to Paris and leave me here?”_ He asked through gritted teeth.

 _“I don’t understand.”_ Tom jumped in. _“First, you hate on Paris and now you want to go?”_

 _“No one is speaking to you, William.”_ He snapped.

 _“Timothée, you’re being positively foolish.”_ Tom complained.

_“And you’re being a complete-”_

_“Children!”_ Jeremy warned before his youngest could insult his eldest.

 _“Answer me.”_ Timothée desperately demanded while looking at his sister.

The young woman remained silent which only made Timothée feel worse. His blood was boiling and his eyes were welling up with angry tears for they say silence is an answer too.

 _“Is Tom making you do this?”_ He asked.

 _“Oh, for God’s sake!”_ Tom exclaimed.

 _“If you love it so much there, why don’t you leave Tom?”_ He spoke while pointing at him with his knife. _“Nobody wants you here.”_

 _“Timothée!”_ Jeremy scolded.

 _“What do you want, Timothée?”_ Tom challenged. _“Because I am still not understanding this little tantrum of yours.”_

 _“William!”_ Jeremy chided.

 _“What I want is for you to stop making decisions for others.”_ Timothée raised his tone.

The argument heated up as the father forcefully joined in after being ignored for a while, but once their tones elevated and sentences overlapped, the sister rubbed her temples and spoke up.

_“Thomas is not making me do anything, Timothée.”_

The dispute came to an abrupt stop as the youngest shushed everyone with a hand gesture and stared at his sister with his heart on the verge of breaking.

_“What did you say?”_

She delivered the coup de grâce.

_“I want to go to Paris with him.”_

Timothée’s silence turned awkward in no time. He was frozen, thinking that perhaps he hadn’t heard her but the look on her face confirmed it. He gave a disappointed nod trying to hold back the tears, rose up from his seat and grudgingly threw his napkin on the table before walking out and leaving the rest of the family sharing glances.

_“They’re joined at the hip those two.”_ Jeremy said. _“You know that.”_

He and Tom were sharing a moment in the garden with cigarettes after the far from jolly dinner. Jeremy blew out the smoke.

 _“I’m surprised they weren’t born twins.”_ He added.

 _“Timothée needs to grow up.”_ Tom said. _“He needs to stop acting like a child and get more involved with the serious aspects of the shop. He spends most of his time in that horrendous workshop of his.”_

 _“Well, he’s quite the mannequin maker now.”_ Jeremy defended him with raised eyebrows. _“Each of us has a role to fulfill and that keeps the shop up and running, William. You shouldn’t be so hard on your brother. You know he’s always been a very sensitive kid.”_

_“He’s not a kid anymore.”_

_“I know.”_ Jeremy said lifting his hands in front of him as if trying to excuse an old habit with innocence.

He threw the cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it, claiming to be exhausted and saying good night to his eldest son with a pat on the shoulders before leaving. Tom studied him as he took the last drag on his own cigarette.

Timothée was restless.

He couldn’t sleep knowing that he had quarreled with his sister. The thought of her leaving town would probably give him horrible nightmares anyway. He had to persuade her not to leave. Beg if he had to. He got up and walked out of the bedroom, determined to spoil Tom’s plans.

As he reached her bedroom door, he thought he heard something and froze.

The door was ajar. Timothée’s sister giggled inside but then she let out a suffocated moan. Timothée’s heartbeat faltered at the noise. He felt curious. He wanted to watch. He heard a second voice, just as familiar as hers. When he carefully peeked inside, his whole world came crashing down and he forgot how to breathe. He thought that finding out she was leaving had broken his heart but that was nothing compared to what his eyes were seeing.

Their earlier conversation made sense now. _Forbidden love_ , he remembered in her voice as he witnessed how Thomas passionately kissed his sister’s lips while being inside of her and how she enjoyed it. This was why she wouldn’t marry. Why neither had Tom. Why they wanted to move to Paris. To play their sick games freely, their perversion, without getting caught but it was too late. Timothée stumbled backwards stunned and deaf, and feeling like he’d possibly go into cardiac arrest.

For a moment he thought she had implied someone else.

For a moment he had hoped it was him instead.

It was always Tom.

Timothée pressed his back to the wall but it wasn’t enough to keep him on his feet and he slid down to the floor and buried his face in his arms to hide the tears that finally came out as he heard his sister and his brother in the room. A while later, when he heard Tom’s footsteps getting closer, he managed to quickly get up and run to hide in the hallway. He watched him walk to his bedroom, and all Timothée could do, was move towards his sister’s for he needed an explanation.

When he walked in, she was startled and gasped his name as she tried to cover herself with the bed sheet even though she was already wearing her nightgown. Confused Timothée didn’t make a sound. He just shut the door behind him and walked up to her. She eyed him from head to toe and he just grabbed her and pressed his lips to hers but she pushed him away.

 _“What are you doing!?”_ She exclaimed.

The rejection made Timothée see red, so he cupped her face in his hands and forcefully kissed her one more time. She slapped him hard across the face. So hard he had to wipe the blood coming out of the corner of his mouth using his thumb, and he let out a chuckle when he looked at it. She swallowed hard bothered by a pinch of guilt.

 _“Am I not allowed to do that?”_ He asked with an ironic tone.

_“What is wrong with you, Timothée?”_

_“You’re such a hypocrite.”_

He was scaring her. All she could do was stay there with her feet glued to the floor.

 _“Do you love him?”_ He asked.

_“What?”_

_“Do you love him?”_ He repeated in less collected tone. _“Is that why you’re leaving with him?”_

Her stomach churned as she began to understand what her little brother was implying.

 _“Answer me, Goddamn it! I just saw you both, you…”_ He trailed off.

 _“Timothée…”_ She breathed out. _“Timothée, I don’t know what you think you saw but…”_

 _“Don’t even!”_ He cut her off. _“Why?”_ He asked with a broken voice. _“Why him?”_

She knew she couldn’t lie anymore. Her darkest secret was out.

 _“I don’t… I don’t know. It just… it just happened.”_ She stammered nervously.

 _“How long?”_ Timothée inquired. _“How long has this been going on?”_

She hesitated as embarrassment crept in. She knew Timothée looked up to her and now she couldn’t even fathom the horrible things he was possibly thinking. She looked at the ground instead.

 _“A year or so…”_ She admitted in almost a whisper.

Timothée clenched his jaw and looked away, letting it sink in.

 _“Are you in love?”_ He managed to ask.

The fear, the shame, and the adrenaline of the moment caused tears to stream down her face as her whole body trembled.

 _“I love Thomas.”_ She confessed. _“And he loves me.”_ She paused with nervousness. _“Timothée, you can’t tell father about this. It will kill him.”_

 _“No. You’re wrong.”_ He whispered. _“It’s killing me.”_

The sight of her little brother, completely broken and disappointed was crushing her heart. She approached him slowly when she saw the tears running down his face. She cupped his face in her hands but he turned his head to the side; a sheer sign of rejection.

 _“Tim-”_ She sobbed.

He gripped her wrists and stared into her soul. His eyes traveled to her lips. He was longing for another kiss and for her to allow it this time.

_“Why can’t you love me like you love him?”_

She wanted to touch him but if she moved an inch, he’d grip her even tighter to stop her again. He caught a glimpse of the ring Tom had given her on her left hand. She would even wear it to bed. He also realized that she was trying to find an excuse, so he let her go at last and put distance between them. He finally allowed his whole body to go completely numb.

 _“Timothée.”_ She wept.

But he didn’t even look at her. He just turned around slowly and walked out of the room without uttering a single word.

Timothée plopped down on the wooden stool with a bottle of wine in his right hand, his second one of the long night, and stared at the unfinished mannequin before him.

His tears of rage had dried but his eyelashes were still halfway. With bloodshot eyes and an exhausted soul he tousled his hair with his left hand and grabbed a paintbrush to dip in red paint. He brought it to the mannequin’s mouth and did its upper lip. This mannequin would never hurt him. On the contrary, he thought finishing it would keep his mind distracted from the pain. But it was too much. He took a big swig of wine to dull it some more before continuing with the bottom lip, but he didn’t stop at the corner and instead dragged the paintbrush all the way to the jaw ruining the mannequin’s face with a red line as the frustration caught up with him.

The more he stared at it, the more he blended the image of his sister with it, reminded of how badly she had hurt him. And Tom… he hated Tom. He detested his guts. He didn’t want to see him. He felt like murdering him for getting in the way and taking his sister away from him. For a moment, he even wished she was betrothed to someone else so that it would be a losing game for the both of them, and only then, it would be fair.

They would have to swallow their sins.

He sniffed loudly and stood up with wobbling knees. The alcohol had finally taken its toll on him. It was time to go to bed. But then, something caught his attention on the table; the spider he had trapped was still in the glass jar. Timothée stared at it for a very long time, looked at the ground, sipped on more wine. The spider demanded his attention again.

He took the jar with the most horrid thoughts in mind.

_“Darling?”_ Jeremy said while knocking on his daughter’s bedroom door. _“Darling, I finished the dress. I’d like you to try it on.”_

There was no answer from the other side so he opened the door slowly.

 _“Good God, child. It’s almost noon.”_ Jeremy complained when he saw his daughter still asleep on the bed.

But she hadn’t even heard him, and something wasn’t right.

_“Are you indisposed?”_

But when he approached the bed and gently placed his hand on her forehead, she was cold as ice. Jeremy felt his heart in his throat.

 _“Young lady, wake up!”_ He said in a demanding tone that was betrayed by his nervousness.

Jeremy gently shook her, finally recognizing the rigor mortis. His daughter was dead. He stared frightened and thinking that perhaps he wasn’t even awake himself and it was only a bad dream. But when he pulled the covers off, he let out a quiet gasp as he saw a deadly spider crawling over her. His eyes widened with terror and loud sobs began to pour out of him.

Tom was having breakfast in the dining room when he heard his distressed father yelling with a broken voice upstairs.

He was immediately up on his feet and following the heart wrenching sound. Tom walked into his sister’s bedroom to find his father kneeling down next to her bed, cradling her lifeless body, completely devastated and with tears streaming down his face. It sent shivers down Tom’s spine as his lips parted with horror and his blue eyes welled up with tears. A suffocated sob escaped him as he rushed and his knees fell to the floor next to his father, unable to understand what had happened.

He had felt her warm skin the previous night. He had made her laugh. He had held her in his arms and kissed her. He had been inside of her.

But now, the forbidden love of his life was gone.

Everything slowed down and the days that followed were unbearable.

Jeremy had fallen sick in bed after burying his daughter. Seeing her corpse in the dress she had loved and he thought she’d marry in one day was too much for him. The apple of his eye had withered and died at a very young age, and a third of his heart had died with her. Tom even feared his father wouldn’t make it. And he, on the other hand, had to force himself to put his own pain aside to take care of everything including his father.

Everyone in town knew about the tragic and timeless death of Jeremy’s daughter. The tailor shop’s front door was filled with flower arrangements and all sorts of condolence gifts for the grieving family. The sky had filled with gray clouds and the rain hadn’t stopped since the day she died. The funeral and the burial were brutal. Jeremy felt like dying right then and there so he could be with his daughter again. Tom still couldn’t believe it was her inside the coffin, and his heart kept on breaking into a million pieces as he thought about how life had taken it all away from him.

They were about to get a little freedom in Paris where they could even pretend to be husband and wife since no one knew them there. The possibilities they had discussed were endless. In the back of his brain, nevertheless, mild relief could be found for the dark secret they shared, had been buried with her.

The two men were deeply worried about Timothée who hadn’t uttered a word since his sister’s death and seemed absent. As her coffin was lowered into the ground, he watched without evoking emotion. His body was there but his mind was stuck in limbo. Jeremy and Tom knew that it hadn’t really dawned in on him perhaps and that he was a ticking bomb.

Timothée took a stranger’s right hook to the nose and staggered backwards before being thrown out of a pub.

He was in bad shape and in the denial stage of grief still. He spent his evenings drinking and wondering where all the pain had gone. So he’d randomly pick fights until someone hit him. He imagined that the physical pain would somehow help and bring back the emotional spectrum in him. And when he got home, and Tom saw the horrible bruise on his eye, he lost it. He yelled at Timothée who could barely pay attention with so much alcohol in his system.

_“I am here, keeping father alive and swallowing my own pain while you’re out there drunk beyond reason and getting into fights!”_

Timothée was just sitting at the piano in their living room, with his back to Tom and leaning on the open fallboard, tinkering with the highest key, playing it over Tom’s complaints over and over again like a spoiled teenager.

_“The shop isn’t going to run itself. You’re opening it first thing in the morning.”_

Timothée just uttered one word.

_“No.”_

Tom sighed with desperation emanating from his every pore.

 _“You need to stop.”_ He said. _“Whatever this is, Timothée, I am begging you. You’re not just hurting yourself, you’re making it harder for all of us.”_ He got closer to his little brother and crouched in front of the piano bench _. “Sh-She’s gone, brother.”_ He stuttered, choking back the tears.

When Timothée finally turned around and faced Tom, he was experiencing a moment of clarity.

 _“Our sister’s dead.”_ Tom muttered.

When he looked into his little brother’s eyes, he knew that he had finally listened, and he could see how his soul crumbled and heard it in the sob he let out. Timothée held onto Tom, crying inconsolably with raw sentiment at last, but he suddenly pushed Tom away and stood up.

 _“This is your fault.”_ Timothée accused between gritted teeth.

Tom rose up with a semblance of profound confusion.

 _“You wanted to take her from me.”_ The youngest wept _. “I loved her… just as much as you did if not more.”_ He widened his eyes as he came to a realization. _“I had to make her stay.”_

Tom didn’t understand a thing his brother had said, and before he could ask any questions, Timothée ran out into the garden and got lost in the rain and didn’t return home until the sun was about to rise.

Although Jeremy seemed to be getting better, the nightmare wasn’t over for Tom.

Timothée spent the next couple days locked up in his workshop, dealing with his grief. Tom knew knocking on the door was useless. He’d never open and Tom could hear him working inside. The older brother kept on leaving food out the door only to come back to find it untouched. One early morning, he finally heard his little brother around the house. He decided not to disrupt him and stayed in his bedroom until he heard him in the garden.

Tom peeked out the window and saw a very dapper Timothée.

He assumed that he had finally gathered the strength to clean up and go to the shop.

Curious Tom entered his little brother’s workshop after he left.

The place was a complete mess and Tom could tell that Timothée had deposited all his grief into his art. Dozens of sketches were scattered all over the floor and the table along with his books and tools. He picked up the one pencil drawing that caught his attention; it was of his sister’s face without any emotion in the eyes but a little side smirk that made her look mischievous.

It made Thomas smile even though it hurt like hell knowing that he’d never see that again in the flesh. He was impressed at how perfectly Timothée had captured her essence and beauty. No wonder his father allowed him to immerse himself in his hobbies. He excelled in them. As he put the sheet on the table, something else caught his attention there, resting next to a pair of scissors and slightly covered in dirt like everything else; the gold ring he had gifted to his sister.

Tom had to touch it to know he wasn’t mistaken but it was the same ring. A deep sense of anguish invaded him because she was supposed to be buried with it but, in the midst of mourning, his mind couldn’t be trusted. He must’ve forgotten. He couldn’t explain it, but something came over him. That ring was hers, she needed to have it. Was it totally mad to give it to her now? She had loved it so much. It was hers and hers only.

Had he gone mad?

He didn’t care.

In a strange trance, Tom went to the cemetery.

Perhaps his sister was asking him to do it. Perhaps it was his time to grief. He didn’t care about the rain. He had to put the ring on her finger so he’d sleep at night. With a shovel in hand, he stood in front of her grave waiting somehow for a sign not to do something so macabre but it was as if something was compelling him to do it instead. Tom dug and dug until the shovel hit her coffin. Drenched in the rain, he removed the remaining dirt, now mud, from the coffin lid. Tom took a deep breath to ease his nerves. He had come this far, it wasn’t the time to stop.

Tom felt the worst of shivers coursing down his spine when he opened the casket and his dead sister wasn’t there.

Was he losing his mind?

Tom stumbled dizzy through the town’s streets covered in mud and unable to utter a word. Only quiet yet distressed noises kept escaping his mouth from both the cold rain and his frightened heart. He thought he was dreaming. He had to be. His feet kept moving forward somehow, and before he knew it, he was in front of his father’s tailor shop. He could see Timothée behind the counter working on a very peculiar flower arrangement. What Tom saw next would’ve driven anyone completely mad.

Timothée got closer to the display window from inside the store, carrying the bouquet. He finally locked eyes with Tom and froze for a couple seconds. He then proceeded to place the flowers in the mannequin’s hands. As Timothée stood up straight again, he stared into Thomas’ soul on the other side of the glass.

The youngest showed his brother an evil smirk.

With every inch of his body trembling, Tom looked up at Timothée’s newest and most morbidly glorious creation; his dead sister, turned into a bride mannequin made of her very own flesh and eyes.


End file.
